Howie shut off the bathroom light with a flick of his wrist before padding softly to his bed and pulling the neatly tucked covers back. Sweeping the mint from his pillow case into the palm of his hand, he tossed it onto the bed table beside him. The dim light from the city filtered through the drawn window shades, casting odd shadows on the walls of the all too familiar suite. As he burrowed beneath the blankets, his thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to the loft and ultimately, Chemelyn.
Who knew why things happened the way they did? Who knew why he had found her - or rather, she had found him- that spring evening so many months ago. Howie had truly never expected to share his letters with a single soul until his wedding night. As silly as he knew others might view his sentiments, they meant the world to him. The letters he kept for his future wife symbolized a small part of himself kept out of the public eye.
Was it fate? Or some Higher Power? Or perhaps both worked hand in hand. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was the fact that Howie’s destiny seemed magical. Every wish, every desire he had in him had been fulfilled.....or nearly so. Chemelyn was the embodiment of his ideal woman, the vision all men kept concealed within, his heart’s desire.
Howie sighed and instinctively reached beside him, hoping to feel the curves of her body, warm and comforting. Of course, she was not there. His virtue and the need to honor her had seen to that. Grinding his palm against his forehead in frustration, Howie reminded himself that he would wait until the timing was right, utterly perfect, to begin his tender assault on her flesh. She wasn’t quite ready, he knew. Whether some inner intuition told him, or a tiny bird whispered the thought in his ear, Howie simply understood that their relationship wasn’t yet ripe for physical intimacy....not that that stopped him from wanting her.
Rolling over to face the window and the opposite side of his suite, the empty bed at his back, Howie’s brain shifted into overdrive. If he couldn’t - or wouldn’t- succumb to their desire, there had to be another way to give back to her even a fraction of the good she had given him. Her mere presence was a balm to his heart, her laughter music to his ears. He longed for her touch and held his breath for her voice. And that night, she had shared herself with him so entirely that it had been more difficult than ever before to leave her alone in the apartment.
*****
“Look at that one....isn’t it beautiful?” Chemelyn asked, her tone hushed and reverent as they halted in front of an abstract piece. There was not another person in sight as they roamed the halls and rooms of the sizable gallery situated in the center of Seattle. The hard wood floors gleamed as the light bounced off of their highly polished boards, making the entire place seem to sparkle. The walls had been painted white in an effort to offer as little distraction as possible from the various points of interest; namely, the canvases gracing the surface and the random pedestals which displayed clay works, statues, or wood carvings. The Galleria was truly a wonderful place to come when seeking the variety of self expression.
Howie glanced from the symbolic piece in front of him, to the woman at his side, and back again. “Tell me what you see,” he prompted quietly, wishing once again to view the world through her eyes. He had always had an appreciation for the arts but could not bring himself to pass up the opportunity to behold the artists and their work from her unique perception.
Chemelyn pondered carefully before speaking, “I see....someone who is passionate with desire....but at the same time, is lacking the fire of life. The flames which leap and curl are those of a last chance. A last effort before surrender, full of desperate passion and the need to engulf whatever it is they’re searching for.” Her hand tightened around his with excitement. “I can feel it,” she told him softly. Howie’s eyes didn’t stray from her features, alight with fascination.
“I believe you can,” he whispered, tenderly smiling down into her upturned face. Chemelyn gave his hand a tiny tug, urging Howie to the next exhibit. They roamed the gallery at their own snail’s pace, taking time to fully observe and reflect upon each piece.
*****
“I hope you have insurance.”
“Of course, including the all important fire policy.”
“Good. I’d hate to be responsible for putting you out of house and home,” Malone sighed dramatically amid Chemelyn’s giggles. She gave him a friendly shove which he responded to in kind.
“Come on, you know you’re not that bad.”
“Contrary to popular belief, gay men do not have everything in common with the female of the species.”
“Such as the culinary arts?”
“You’re mocking me,” he glared playfully, shaking an oven mit clad finger in his best friend’s direction.
“You started it.”
“This is true,” Malone shrugged and returned his attention to the tray of garlic bread he was sliding carefully into the oven. “However, you’ll have to agree not even Cindy Crawford can rival my sense of style.”
“I’m hardly the fashion diva, but yes, I concur.” Chemelyn remarked wryly as she cast a side long glance at Malone, appraising his ensemble of choice for the evening. Black leather pants clung to his slim hips, cleaving to his legs like a second skin. Paired with a white long sleeved dress shirt, open at the collar, she had no choice but to admire his bold flair for the vogue.
“So, was Lover Boy particularly put out at the prospect of losing you to another man for the night?” Malone teased as he hoped up onto the counter.
“Funny. Actually, he decided to go out to a club for the evening with Derik, of all people. You should know that though, considering....”
“Yeah, well, Derik and I aren’t on the best of terms at the moment,” Malone grudgingly admitted, feeling the slight fire of jealousy at the thought of Derik out with another man - even if it was Howie. “I really hope he doesn’t take your man to the Pink or the Cavalier Angel,” he added, referring to two well known alternative clubs in the area.
“All right, stop trying to change the subject and spill it.” Chemelyn ordered, propping her head up in her hand while resting an elbow on the kitchen counter.
“What’s there to tell?” Malone scoffed without much conviction. “A whole lot of nothing, that’s what.”
“We’ve never kept anything from one another before, why are you starting now?”
Silence pervaded the air between them, so thick Chemelyn could have sliced through it with the butcher knife lying on the cutting board. The oven timer rang shrilly, interrupting their impasse.
“Thank God for bells. People need saving every once in a while,” Malone grumbled with no real animosity.
Letting the topic drop for the moment, Chemelyn moved to assist in the preparation of the rest of their meal. Any other time, both she and Malone were fond of utilizing their collection of take out menus, but tonight’s quality time called for something special. Since Howie had come to Seattle, the two had had no real occasion to bask in one another’s company. Both were suffering withdrawal, and Malone had demanded that this one night belong exclusively to them.
“So, while we’re hashing our love lives to death, how are things in paradise?”
A tiny smile came to play on Chemelyn’s lips as she pondered the question while spooning spaghetti onto several plates. “I could say everything’s wonderful, but that doesn’t seem like an adequate choice of words. Neither does fantastic, marvelous, extraordinary, glorious-”
“Okay, okay! Yeesh, I get the point. Good Lord,” Malone ran a hand through his bleach blond hair as he shook his head good naturedly. “Mom said she had a little talk with you the other evening. I take it I can report back to her that the lecture was a success?”
Chemelyn laughed and nodded vigorously. “Oh, it was just the push I needed,” her tone grew quiet, features slightly pensive. “You know how it can be for me...”
“Yeah, I know,” Malone conceded, wrapping an arm around her in a half embrace. “But surely, with him it’s not...well, as bad as it could be?”
“Not even close. In fact, I shared my work with him.”
“What?!” Malone’s head whipped in her direction, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You mean, you showed him how to mix a double latte, or you let him in on the secret to achieving a spectacular mocha, right?”
“No, I mean I showed him my work, Malone. My paintings,” Chemelyn clarified, studiously avoiding her best friend’s gaze, while gesturing toward the studio. Malone’s eyes flitted between the woman before him and the stacks of canvases and collection of paints across the loft. Slowly, he reached out and tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “You did. You actually did it,” he breathed.
“I had to. I love him.”
“As if that wasn’t obvious before.....” muttered Malone. “So, are you guys serious...I mean, serious serious.”
“As in does he like like me?” Chemelyn asked with a laugh at their juvenile references. Malone chuckled deeply and rolled his eyes. “Yes,” she answered honestly.
“Can I be your maid of honor?”
“Mally!” Chemelyn exclaimed in horror. “We’re not even close to that level in our relationship. We’re not fawning over one another that badly, are we?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Oh....well, then, you do realize this means you’ll most likely be wearing some horrific peach creation. It’ll be distaste at first sight, I can guarantee it.”
“No, honey. Peach simply isn’t my color. Fire engine red....now there’s a tone I can get behind.”
“In your dreams, cake boy. It’s my wedding and -wait a damn minute! I can’t believe you’ve succeeded in altering my frame of mind this drastically. There’s no way we’ll ever.....at least, not for a while. God! We haven’t even sl-” Chemelyn gasped, stopping abruptly as she realized what had been about to fly out of her mouth. Her cheeks flushed as she grabbed the basket of French bread bathed in garlic butter, hastily making an exit.
“Whoa!” Malone’s incredulous cry came on the heels of her departure, and he followed her into the dining area briskly. “Hold up, girl. You guys haven’t consummated your relationship yet?”
Chemelyn tossed the basket on the table, straightening her shoulders and standing to her full five feet, four inches. “No, we haven’t,” she admitted with a dignified lilt to her chin.
“How could you not jump him?!” Malone shouted, not caring whether or not his question was particularly eloquent, let alone politically correct.
“We’re not ready,” she sighed in response, wishing this portion of their conversation would come to an end.
“There has to be a logical explanation for this,” he mumbled. Chemelyn rolled her eyes.
“I just gave you one.”
“Sexual deprivation. It’s been known to cause insanity, I’m sure of it.”
“He wants everything to be perfect.”
“And what do you want?” Malone raised an eyebrow, his mouth quirking at the corner. Chemelyn debated her reply, shifting uncomfortably.
“Oh, fine,” she finally threw her hands into the air in exasperation, “ I wish he’d forget about my honor and ravage my body a lá Rhett Butler and Scarlett O’Hara! Are you happy now?” she cried, amid Malone’s raucous laughter.
“Call CNN! Chemelyn Clavaro has just admitted weakness and lust where a man is concerned. Full story at six.”
“You’re terrible.”
“I try.”
“For the record, I do want to wait until the optimal time, when the entire experience will be absolutely exquisite; flawless in every sense. Until then, I’m content. Enough about my sex life-”
“Or lack thereof.”
“-I want the real deal on what’s happening where you and Derik are concerned.”
“I never realized how vindictive you are.”
“I’m not being vengeful, I’m curious. It’s my prerogative as your best friend. Besides, you’ve tortured me all evening, don’t you think it’s about time we tried a role reversal?”
“I told you before, there’s nothing to tell.”
“There’s always something. Are you being coy or modest? Teasing, perhaps?”
Malone sighed and turned to face Chemelyn with a spark of anger flaring in his eyes. “No! I’m incredibly, irrevocably serious.”
Chemelyn bit her lip in sympathy. “Oh. I see; it’s the ‘nothing’ that’s bothering you.” Malone sank into a chair and folded his arms on the dining room table before resting his head on them. His shoulders slumped in defeat, his entire posture reflecting despair and frustration.
“Exactly. Things are different.”
Chemelyn echoed Malone’s position, her intent gaze never drifting from his face. “In what way?”
“We used to be so....magical. Lately, we just haven’t been relating on the same level. It’s so disheartening; you know how much I care for Derik.”
“You two have always been close. Remember when you first met? He walked into the cafe, took one look at you, and asked you out on the spot.”
The pair smiled at the memory; Chemelyn for the beauty of it, Malone with longing. “I thought he was adorable from the start.”
“Then what happened to change your mind?”
“My mind hasn’t changed. I am unable to say the same for Derik, however.”
Chemelyn leaned forward, sensing that they were nearing the heart of the issue. “Why do you say that?”
“It’s simple, really. I wanted him to move in with me. I wanted a commitment other than the verbal as a way to ensure I’d never lose him. Unfortunately, Derik wasn’t ready for that plateau in our relationship. Instead of preserving our intimacy, I drove him away.” Malone concluded sadly. “Now you know.”
“Why didn’t you share all of this with me sooner?” Chemelyn questioned softly, affronted by her best friend’s failure to share his tribulation.
“You’re in love. I didn’t want to ruin that euphoric feeling for you,” he shrugged with feigned indifference. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter anymore. Derik and I have reverted to being ‘just friends’. It’s for the best.”
“Malone, I-”
“Leave it, Chem. We were said and done with a while ago. Nothing’s going to bring that back.” Malone stood, retracing his steps into the kitchen, “I’m starved, and the food’s not getting any warmer. Let’s eat!”
Chemelyn shook her head slightly to clear her wayward thoughts, and followed in Malone’s wake. “Whatever you say, boss.” She found him with his head buried in the pantry, rummaging about frantically.
“Are you out of Parmessian?”
“Nope. Top shelf.”
“Thank God,” he sighed, clutching the canister of cheese to his chest, gazing at it with mock lust. “Oh, Kraft. How I’ve missed you.”
Chemelyn gave a tiny snort of disgust. “I don’t know how you stand that stuff. You’re such a rat, Malone.”
“Just call me Lester. Hey! Before I forget, some lady called for you at the cafe today.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Radiance somebody. Said it was an important matter, but wouldn’t leave a message other than her phone number.”
“Huh. So, where are the digits?”
“What?” Malone asked distractedly while shaking the crumbled cheese onto his spaghetti with wild abandon.
“The number?”
“In my hip pocket.”
Chemelyn rolled her eyes “Right or left?” she asked, retrieving the slip of paper once she’d gained a reply. The memo was badly wrinkled as well as a little torn, but the message was still legible. With a shrug, she tacked the note to the bulletin board hanging on the wall beside the telephone before grabbing her plate to join Malone in the dining room. “Hey, have you noticed the cute guy frequenting the cafe recently? He’s been checking you out. You should talk to him, Mally. Maybe it’ll be good for you.”
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